The Dark Angel
by DarthCruciare
Summary: This is the story of Lionel Shepard. This tale will be divided into 3 parts. First part will deal with my Shepard's Earthborn background. Part two will deal with the Ruthless backstory. Part three will be based on parts from all 3 games. Will be rated M for strong language, intense violence, blood and gore, sexual content, and drug use. First story, so please be nice.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: As described, this story will eventually feature a Talimance. However, I decided that I was going to flesh out Shepard's origin story, in this case, a Ruthless Earthborn. This story will stray a bit from established canon to be in line with the way I view my Shepard. I was hoping to leave certain things to the imagination, but feedback suggests that some people were caught off guard in regards to Shepard's sexual orientation. Therefore, as a warning, I will state that my story will initially contain scenes of M/M romance, BUT by the time Shepard meets Tali, that will change. How exactly? Well, an author can't give away ALL his secrets... So, if I still have your attention, on with the show. **

The Dark Angel

Part One: Origins

Chapter 1

When I was growing up on the streets of Vancouver, the stench was everywhere. It was a stench so awful, you could taste it. It made your eyes water, your lungs burn, and your heart ache. It was the stench of corruption. Since the discovery of the mass relays, politicians, philosophers, and scientists all proclaimed that humanity was entering the golden age. What a crock of shit THAT turned out to be. Oh sure, we were living in a golden age alright…as long as you had money. Despite the technological advances, the divide between rich and poor was as wide as the distance between Earth and Luna.

Before the rise of the Alliance, the rich, along with their corrupt servants in the Vancouver PD, sought to control those they considered beneath them. The VCPD at this time were nothing more than a collection of glorified mafia dons, taxing the poor to near starvation levels. That all pervasive stench eventually became more than I could bear.

I never knew my parents. Being a biotic, I was abandoned at the local church by those superstitious fucks. It is human nature to fear the unusual, the exotic, and the unknown. It didn't stop me from being pissed off about it, though by the time I killed my first man by the age of twelve, I got over it. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

_Crash!_ "Vancouver PD, this is a raid!" Black armoured troopers charged in through the breached door. Children shrieked and dove out of the way to avoid being trampled. Mother Midea stepped out from behind the lectern to meet them.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, with all the authority she could muster. "This is a house of god!" The terrified children huddled at her feet. At that last exclamation, a booming laugh echoed through the cavernous hall. A large, brutal looking man stepped through the remains of the shattered door. The other officers quickly got out of the way and came to attention. Clearly, he was the leader of this war band.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap_, the sound of his expensive shoes reverberated through the now silent room. He approached, and with a mocking smirk, bent down on one knee, and crossed himself before the crucifix. The sight enraged the normally calm Mother.

"How dare you!" she shouted. "What is your purpose here?" The lieutenant, if I read the markings on his shoulder correctly, composed himself, and wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Why dear mother," he began, still chuckling slightly, "I've come to collect your monthly tribute."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mother Midea was stunned. "Are you insane?" she blurted incredulously. "This is a church, we have nothing of value, and I wouldn't pay even we did." For some reason, this made him laugh even harder. My fists clenched, my eyes narrowed, and my jaw felt like it would crack.

"Well," he drawled, "there are…other ways you could pay." Before I could even blink, he backhanded Midea so hard, that blood flew out of her mouth and struck me in the face.

Suddenly, it started. I felt it all of my life, and only through intense meditation and prayer was I able to get it under control. The anger, the blood rage, the burning desire to kill; the beast within that I struggled to keep tightly chained was in danger of being released. The blood on my face acted as a catalyst. It was a dumbass thing to do. Seeing Mother Midea sprawled on the floor, the lieutenant leering as he approached, his hands starting to unbuckle his belt, I couldn't hold back anymore, and I didn't want to.

My body began to tremble, like a man possessed, my heart began to race, and a low moan escaped my lips. The moan became louder and lower, turned into a growl, and made even the ruthless lieutenant pause. My vision turned red, and my voice grew louder and louder, until finally, I let out an ear-splitting, gut-wrenching roar of fury. Still roaring, I charged that bastard like a battering ram, and struck him so hard he flew for 20 feet before slamming into the adjacent wall. The sound his head made as it cracked against the concrete was like an axe cutting a coconut.

The warlord's men, shocked at the stunning turn of events, bellowed orders to each other, and tried to rush me. It would be the last mistake they would ever make. My blood was up, and I craved more. I wanted to hurt them. I had the irrepressible urge to rend them apart with my bare hands. I wanted to bathe in their blood and feast on their flesh. I wanted to pick my teeth with their bones. They were fools. If they were so hungry for death, I would gift it to them in spades.

Shaking my head briefly to clear my vision, I focused on my targets. They were clustered together, and a grim smile broke across my face. I let loose with a smaller biotic charge. Unlike their lamented leader, they only fell back a couple metres. As they got back to their feet, however, I closed the distance. With a roar, I raised my fist, jumped into the air, and brought it down on hard.

Blinding light, a sonic boom, and the smell of ozone and roasted flesh filled the air. The strong smells wafted through the air, and made some of the younger children cry with distress. The older children, however, kept their composure, and regarded me with looks of grim approval. I sank to my knees, and closed my eyes, exhausted. I drank in the scents like a man might enjoy the bouquet of a fine wine. The killing rage finally departing, I passed out from the sensory overload.

I awoke several hours later. "Mother, he's awake!" I heard a voice call out. Midea came rushing over to my side. "My son!" she wept, holding me tight. She rocked me in her arms like a babe. "My little Lion, what have you done?" she asked tearfully.

"What I had to do, mother," I said simply. "He was going to rape you! Here! In one of the only sacred places left in this godforsaken city!" I was shaking with barely supressed rage. I was twelve years old. I was so naïve. I didn't think that either the most hardened criminal or the most corrupt officer would dare violate such place. It opened my eyes.

She kissed me on the brow, and embraced me. "Thank you, my son," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for protecting me, but you must know the police are going to want retribution for this." I nodded.

"I know, mother," I replied. "It is far too dangerous for me to stay here any longer. I must take the fight to them. I can stay idle no longer, I have to do something." Mother Midea looked at me tearfully.

"But why, Lionel? Why must it be you?" her eyes begged me for an answer.

I stood up, and stretched to my full, admittedly small height. "Because I finally know why I was put on this earth," I replied. "My powers are gift, even if my parents couldn't see that. The Lord helps those who help themselves, and help others. I WILL succeed. I will free my brothers and sisters from this wretched existence. I dream of a world where all men and women can walk proudly and freely without fear of violence. I will free them, for I am destined to become a Shepherd of men. I must show them no mercy, for we shall receive none. The police were made to be protectors. They have failed, and I will not rest until the last precinct is cast down. When it is all over, only the righteous will be left standing."

I looked around the room, and grimaced at the mess I left behind. "I guess I better clean up before I go," I said with a grim smile. Seeing the body of the lieutenant gave me an idea. I called over my shoulder, "Can someone give me a hand with this?" Jake, a young man about 16, came over to help. "Grab his feet," I instructed as I grabbed the corpse by the head.

Together, we managed to drag the remains to my room, and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. "Thanks brother. I'll take it from here. I'm locking this door, and no matter what you may hear, no one comes in, do you understand?" Jake swallowed nervously.

"What are you going to do?" he asked timidly. I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What I have to do," I replied enigmatically. He looked at me confused, but finally decided to drop the matter, and he left. I locked the door after him. I removed the lieutenant's omni-tool and attached it to my own wrist, and extended the blade. "Sorry about the mess I'm going to make, Mother," I muttered out loud to no one in particular. Grabbing the head by the hair, I began to cut through the neck, sawing back and forth.

For a twelve year old, sawing through bone, muscle, and flesh with a blade no longer than 12 inches was a lot of work. I grunted with the exertion, and after about a half hour of work, the head finally came free. With a triumphant smile, I closed my eyes and concentrated. When I opened them, the skull was levitating in mid-air. "Now comes the hard part," I said to myself.

Using my biotics, I began to flense the skin off the skull, floating it in the air as I did so. The room was filled with the sounds of scraping, and light thuds as the flesh began to fall and hit the floor. Another 15 minutes passed, and the head was completely clean. Next, I used the blade and my biotics combined to bisect the skull sideways. The other half fell to the ground with a clatter and a wet thud. I caught the other half before it fell, and used my biotics to literally warp-wipe the bone clean. Finally, my work was done. It was my masterpiece, meant to inspire terror in the hearts and minds of the corrupt. I placed my new skull mask on my face. I turned to look in the mirror, and gasped in pleasure in what I saw. It was a bit large, but I figured I'd grow into it in a few years. I opened the door, and called out for Jake. After a few moments, he came in my room.

"Yes, Lionel, what is…?" he suddenly choked on his words. "Jesus man, what the…?" I cut him off.

"Now is not the time," I said curtly. "Get everyone out of here, I don't want to scare the little ones." He shook his head in amazement. "Yeah, no shit," he muttered.

I stepped out and went to the altar, where Mother Midea was still resting. "Mother," I called. She turned to me, and she opened her mouth to scream, but remembering about the little words, bit her tongue. She came up to me, and placed her hand on my cheek…or rather, the skull's cheek.

"My son," she said in a hoarse whisper, "what will you do now?"

"I have to go now, mother," I replied. "I have some…cleaning up to do." She sighed, but nodded.

"Go with God, Lionel the Shepherd," she said. I shook my head.

"God's going to sit this one out," I replied. I turned around, straightened my mask, and walked out the door without looking back. It was the last time I would ever lay eyes on the place.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Four Years Later_

Running a crusade is hard work. Ever since that fateful day all those years ago, I decided had to try and save the world. So I made it my mission to relieve the torment of my brothers and sisters. I started a one-man war against the corruption that was choking my beloved city. I used my biotics, my sheer will, and somewhat shamefully, the blood rage to launch hit and run raids against the corrupt precincts of the police departments. For years, the war raged on, and my targets began to toughen their defences after each raid. Finally, after four years, the VCPD had fortified their outposts and precincts into fortresses. I began to despair, because I knew that even with my abilities, I still wouldn't have lasted a chance against them. But then something happened that I did not expect. It was, in my mind, nothing short of miraculous.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap_. The noise jolted me out of a sound sleep. I rolled out of bed, and looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. As quietly as possible, I got up, and reached under the bed for my shotgun, one I happened to 'liberate' from an officer I had killed. Fighting a guerrilla war taught me to always be prepared, so I always slept fully dressed. I went to the door of the apartment I was living in at the time, a non-descript shithole in the slums, a perfect place to keep a low profile. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"Yeah, who is it?" I called out.

"A friend," a voice returned in a hoarse whisper.

I snorted in mild amusement and contempt.

"A friend, huh?" I replied. "Bullshit. If you're a friend, then I'm the fucking Queen of England."

"Let me in, and I'll explain everything," the voice returned, seemingly unsurprised by my response. I sighed theatrically. I hadn't killed anyone all day, so I was feeling kind of itchy. I reached into the nightstand table and pulled out my death mask. Yeah, I said slept fully clothed. But YOU try resting your head on a pillow with your face raised up a couple inches, and bone scratching under chin. Going Spartan-style by growing a beard helps with the chafing, but it's uncomfortable as fuck, let me tell you. Putting on the mask and raising my shotgun, I ripped open the door, grabbed the stunned figure by the neck, and tossed them inside. I slammed the door, and locked it. I flicked on the lights and aimed at the head.

"Right then," I said casually, as if entertaining a stranger in the middle of the night was a regular occurrence. "Let's start at the top. Who the fuck are you, and what do you want with me?" Reaching forward, I pulled back his hood, and removed his cloak. Underneath was the unmistakable armour of the police department. His hair was an unusual shade of red, worn in a ponytail. The lip above his trimmed mustache quivered, and I could see a bead of sweat roll down his chin into his beard. His striking green eyes blinked rapidly in the sudden light. It was a young-looking face, well-maintained, no doubt to the easy living afforded to the decadent lifestyle of the so-called enforcers of the law. Despite my rage, I couldn't help feel a slight twinge of desire. I was sixteen, and…well, let's just say it had been awhile. My face broke into a grim, lascivious smile. I had this bastard at my mercy, and judging by his clandestine attempt to contact me, no one likely knew he was here. The walls weren't particularly well insulated, so any noise would carry. But the one advantage of living in the slums was that no one really gave a shit, and even if they did, who would they call? The cops? Hah! Un-fucking-likely. Unless you were rich, the cops didn't give a shit who you were. The police had no authority here, and lacked the inclination to even try. He was at my mercy, and I could do whatever I wanted to him. Thoughts of Mother Midea raced through my mind, and my grin grew wider as a perverse, deliciously ironic idea suddenly entered my head.

"Well, well, well, pretty boy, what do we have here?" I said in a low chuckle. "If you are stupid to try and visit with me at this ungodly hour, you must have some idea who I am. Tell me, who am I?" With my right hand, I unbuckled and removed my belt, nearly mirroring the actions I saw as a child when I was twelve. Still holding the shotgun in my left, the right went to my crotch and hovered over the zipper to my jeans. My shocked victim blanched, clearly realizing what I had in mind.

"You're the Dark Angel," he whispered in a terrified voice.

I couldn't help it. I let out a bark of laughter. It was utterly ridiculous. "I'm the what now?" I managed to get out, before I started cracking up again.

"You are the Dark Angel," he repeated, this time in an almost reverent tone. The way he said it finally stifled my laughter. "That's what the slum dwellers call you. You are a dark saviour to them."

Snarling with rage, and disregarding the risk, I dropped my gun to grab him by the throat with both hands. My entire body became surrounded in a corona of biotic blue. My glowing hands began to tighten around his neck, and his face began to turn red. A few more seconds, and…suddenly the little voice inside my head, the voice of cold logic and brutal calculus told me to stop. If I killed him, I'd never find out what he wanted. This was a chance to find out more about the enemy. I could always kill him later. With a grimace, I let him fall to the ground. I closed my eyes to concentrate, and my biotics subsided. The only sound in the room was him coughing and retching as he struggled to catch his breath. Once he regained his composure, I pressed on.

"What would a pig like you know about the suffering of others?" I asked scornfully. "What do you know of pain, except knowing how to inflict it? You think me cruel? Sadistic? Merciless? Of course I am. But I am no more or less brutal than your average cop. I like to think I'm levelling the playing field." I paused to take a breath, and forced myself to remain calm. "I'll admit it; I admire the balls it took to come in here. If you know who I am, and where I lived, you could have easily snuck in here to try and cut my throat. You'd have failed, of course," I said with a laugh. "So now you have my interest. Say what you came here to say, and I promise I'll hear you out before I decide to send you home in little pieces."

He nodded, and a surprisingly determined look came in his eye. My respect for my opponent rose. So, this boy had a backbone after all. He looked at me, with those intensely green eyes, and began to speak.

"My name is Eli," he said. "Lieutenant Eli MacMurphy, and yes, I am a cop, but I'm not here to kill you. All of the commanders talk about you. They even commissioned the training of elite kill squads, with one goal: you. They want to get inside your head, find out what makes you tick. Their goal is to manipulate you into a fight that even you cannot win. Let's face it: you may be tough, but you are not invincible, as the common folk claim. That's why you have held off your assaults. You cannot hope to defeat them."

I bristled at his words, but realized he was right. If I was going to win this war, I needed to land a decisive blow. But something he said bothered me.

"Wait a minute," I said. "You said that I cannot hope 'them' instead of 'us'. Do you no longer count yourself as one of them?"

Eli looked away, but I could see the shame and remorse in his eyes. The sight shocked me, and told me all I needed to know. Was it possible? Was there actually an honest cop left in Vancouver?

"I'm sick of it," he admitted after a long pause. "The shit I've done, the shit I've witnessed, I just can't do it anymore. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a cop. I wanted to do some good in the world. But what they became…it's horrible. I can't stand it all: the shakedowns, the bribes, the beatings, the unjust arrests and executions. It must end. That's why I came to you. Alone, we can't stop it, but if we work together, we can take them out."

His statement left me reeling. It was unbelievable. So it WAS true. All of my sixteen years, I learned to fear the police, and hate their brutality. I assumed they were all alike. Now, the living proof that it was a lie was laying there on the floor in front of me.

"You make an…interesting proposition," I managed to say through my suddenly dry throat. "You would be a valuable asset, for sure. But how can one man on the inside make a difference?" For some reason, the look of confusion spread across his face, until realization dawned on him.

"You think I'm alone?" he asked in an incredulous tone. "There are hundreds who feel the same way. For years, we've been looking for a way to end this madness, until you came along. With your powers, we can do this."

I blanched. No, no, it couldn't be. I fell back, and landed flat on my ass. The possibility of one honest cop was hard enough to swallow. Now that I learned that there were more of them, the truth hit me over the head with the force of a biotic slam.

"But that means," I said, barely able to choke out the words through my growing horror. "That means I've killed…no, I've MURDERED…" I couldn't get the words out. For the first time in many years, I broke down and wept. I was a monster, a sadistic killer. I fought against them for so hard I slowly became one of them. I suddenly remembered some ancient words I read once. "One should take care when battling monsters, lest one becomes a monster, and when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into you." My body shook as I wept in remorse for the innocent lives I had taken. Suddenly, my chin was lifted and I was staring with red rimmed eyes into Eli's green ones. Compassion and sympathy was written on every inch of his young face.

"You couldn't possibly have known," he said gently. "We all knew it was a possibility. But there is still a good chance we can end this."

I shuddered, wiped my eyes, and nodded. "So what's the plan?"

"I have my people stationed in key positions around the city," he said. "If we can assassinate the Chief, it will vastly demoralize and catch them off-balance. I'll send them a coded message to begin their assault. My men will engage the loyalists, with orders to capture as many of them as possible. However, there are going to be some diehards who will not likely allow themselves to be taken. It's going to be bloody, but should be doable."

"Sounds like a plan. Just point me in the right direction, and I'll take care of it. I'm making a promise right now, though," I said. "No more innocents die. People always use the word 'discrimination' like it's a dirty word. It isn't always. I choose to discriminate between the pure and the corrupt." Eli smiled, relieved.

"Ok, this is what we're going to do." He then began to explain the plan to me. I relaxed, and for the first time in years, felt the faint stirrings of hope.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks for the couple of kind words I received so far, it encourages me to keep going. I know that so far, it doesn't sound very Mass Effect-like yet, so please be patient with me, I'm getting to it. This origin story has already gone on longer than I was expecting, but I hope you'll be satisfied. To keep you going, I will promise you this: Shepard's gang history WILL make an appearance, but not in the way you'd expect. Oh and incidentally, a reminder this story is rated M for a reason. Was going to make this chapter longer, but I just ran out of steam, and I want to keep the story flowing. Without further ado, let's continue the tale!**

Chapter 4

_One Week Later_

_Kaboom!_ The door blew off its hinges, and the concussive shock wave of the exploding breaching charges instantly killed the few guards protecting it. I charged in, bellowing like a krogan, and aimed my shotgun at the remaining target inside. The man jumped out of his seat, more outraged than alarmed.

"What the f…" was all he managed to utter before I discharged my shotgun into his bloated gut. "Gah!" he screamed in pain and frustration. "You little fucker, you're dead! You're dead, do you hear me?" He gasped and wheezed as he spoke. Ooh, wasn't that an unexpected pleasure; it sounded like I got him the lung. He definitely was not going to die quickly. Just as well, it's no less than this bastard deserved. I smiled at the man lying on the floor, bleeding profusely, screaming threats and obscenities.

"Police Chief Michael Lucas Alexander. You're just the man I've been killing to see." I chuckled. "Your reign of terror is at an end, Chief. You are finished, and your people work me now. I'm going to turn this city around. People should not be afraid of their governments; governments should be afraid of their people. With your death, Vancouver will finally be free." I cocked my shotgun. "Any last words?"

Despite his agony, he managed to hold my gaze with a look of utter loathing. "Just one," he managed to rasp. "How?"

My grin grew wider. Sure, why not, I thought to myself. When he gets to Hell, I want him to know the face of the man who helped send him there. I called over my shoulder. "Lieutenant, you wanna field this one?" I laughed as the blood drained from his face in shock. Lt. Eli MacMurphy walked through the door, with a look of smug satisfaction written all over his face.

"MacMurphy!" roared Alexander. "You traitorous faggot, what the hell have you done?" At that last epithet, I snarled in rage, and advanced, but Eli restrained me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Sticks and stones, Lionel," he said to me calmly. Turning to face the Chief, he continued. "It was simple. I went straight through the front door, with my friend here in cuffs, and said 'I've captured the Dark Angel, the Chief will want to see this himself.'" At that moment, the sound of gunfire erupted through the halls. "As we speak, my men are purging this place. When the traitor's hand strikes, it strikes with the strength of a legion. It's over, Chief." He turned to me and nodded. "He's all yours, Dark Angel," he said.

I closed my eyes to savour the moment. After four long years, victory was finally mine. I reopened them and pointed the shotgun at him again. "So long, Chief. Have a nice life."

"Fuck you!" he shouted defiantly as I discharged both barrels into him again. He screamed for an instant, and then was finally still. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and let the shotgun slip from my fingers. I took off my mask and placed it on the table, and brushed the sweat off my brow. Eli put his hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, with obvious concern in his voice. I took a couple shuddering breaths.

"Yeah," I replied, recovering my wits. "I just can't believe it's finally over." Suddenly, a thought hit me like a two-by-four. "Shit! Your men! The battle! What's going…"

That was all I got out before he pounced. Throwing his arms around me, he lunged and pressed his lips fiercely against mine. I moaned in shock and pleasure in mixture in equal measure, and responded as best as I could. Time seemed to slow to crawl as we savoured the moment. Finally, we pulled away reluctantly, panting heavily.

He placed a finger over my lips to silence me. "Don't worry, it's ok. My men have got the situation well in hand. They don't need me to babysit them." I was still breathless.

"Jesus Christ," I managed to get out. "Not that I'm complaining, but what the hell was that?" Eli at least had the decency to blush.

"Umm, it's been a little…fantasy of mine for a long time," he replied. At the incredulous look on my face, he smiled indulgently. "Oh come now, think about it. Imagine it: the naughty officer at the mercy of the avenging Dark Angel? Totally hot."

I felt the heat rush to my face. "But how did you know…?"

"I didn't," he chuckled. "Not until I saw the way you were looking at me when I first saw you."

I cringed. "And the whole almost killing you bit?"

"Well, nobody's perfect," he deadpanned. I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing, and he joined in. After a few moments, we both composed ourselves.

"As much as I would love to do that again, I should take a look around to see if I can find anything useful. The Chief might be dead, but there is still a lot of work to do." He nodded.

"Go ahead, I'll go check on how things are going." He turned to leave, and was almost to the door, when he turned to face me. "Thanks for everything, Lionel. We couldn't have gotten this far without you."

My throat suddenly tightened. I couldn't speak. Instead, I gave him a determined nod. Eli smiled and returned the gesture, and then was gone. I turned back to the corpse in the room. I went through the pockets, and found some ammo and smokes. I pocketed everything; even though I didn't smoke, the cigs could be useful for bartering purposes. Then the gun in his holster caught my eye. I drew it out and gasped in wonder. It was a massive hand cannon of a pistol, looking similar to the Carnifex model I occasionally found on the bodies of the higher ranking officers I killed. After four years of constant war, however, I had learned enough about firearms to know that this was something very special. I hefted the gun in my right hand, and scanned it with my omni-tool and looked up the specs on the extranet. Apparently, it was a new model based off of the Carnifex design, with a smaller clip, but much more powerful. The model name stated 'Paladin X'. I snickered softly. It seemed appropriate. At the moment, a thought occurred to me. I radioed Eli.

"Eli, I'm heading to the armoury. Meet me there as soon as you are able."

"10-4," he acknowledged.

I smiled to myself. Things were about to get a little messy, but I had no doubt I was going to thoroughly enjoy it. Looking up the location of the armoury on the nearby console, and marking a nav point on my omni-tool, I headed out.

Eli arrived at the armoury five minutes after I did.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I have an idea," I began without preamble. "I need you take as many men as you can spare, and start collecting the bodies of the officers you killed, and bring them here."

Eli turned a curious shade of green. "What did you have in mind?" he asked in a tone of voice that suggested that he knew exactly what I meant. A wicked grin spread across my face, the death mask giving it an even more chilling look.

"I need a new suit."


End file.
